


Two Crows Joy

by Tigresse



Series: JohnLock AU [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Established Relationship, Family Drama, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Modern Era, Not Britpicked, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-04 21:30:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12176916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse
Summary: Sherlock and John are living together now. All goes well till John buys him a pricey birthday gift and a power-dripping, suit clad stranger appears at John's office one day.Second story in the JohnLock AU series. You can read it as a standalone but some parts won't make sense if you haven't read the first story 'The Lonely Rancher and the Juvenile'





	1. The Birthday Gift

John stood in the enormous gift shop, unsure and indecisive. There was so much here, so many things he could buy, money was not even the concern, and yet he didn’t see a single thing that could give him that ‘aha’ effect. 

He was buying a gift for Sherlock, his Sherl, for his nineteenth birthday and he suddenly found himself at a total loss when it came to choosing the right item. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since he was a teen himself even though he was only thirty years old. 

A few months ago, on his birthday, Sherlock had given him a few thoughtful gifts. The normally self-absorbed and freakishly intelligent teenager had surprised him thoroughly there because John had never considered him to be the thoughtful kind. But Sherlock surprised him often and that magical birthday morning had been no exception. He had made John his favourite pancakes breakfast, a coffee mug with ‘Please don’t confuse your Google search with my medical degree’ printed on it was waiting on his home office desk and when they went out for dinner that night, Sherlock had presented him with a silver bracelet that comprised of an elegant chain with a heartbeat design as the centre piece. 

John wore the bracelet 24/7 and carried the coffee mug to work every day. They reminded him as much about Sherlock as the framed photograph he proudly displayed in his consulting chamber, one which they had shot while on holiday at Disneyland, Florida. 

“May I help you sir?” 

“Um yeah,” he looked at the friendly sales clerk, “I was looking for something for my partner, my boyfriend actually. It’s his birthday.” 

“Oh I see. He is your age?’ 

John found the question intrusive but understood why she had asked. “No, he’s younger, about twenty or so.” Somehow saying ‘twenty’ was better than nineteen. He looked into her eyes to see if she saw him as a cradle snatcher but she was already choosing gifts for him. 

“T shirts, jackets, shoes, I am sure he is in University, he would appreciate….” 

“No, not those things. I buy them anyways for him. Something different, something unique.”

“Ah! You all right with quirky stuff? Things that not many people would normally want?” 

“Why would I want what others avoid? Isn’t that a reflection of poor quality or design?” 

“Not really sir. Some things are different, not deficient.” 

John actually felt a bit ashamed for making that judgmental statement. After all he and Sherlock were people others didn’t want. His dad would have disowned him had he been alive while Sherlock’s family had stopped communicating with their boy two years ago. And yet here they were, two happy men living a fulfilled and carefree life together, throwing caution to the winds and carving out their own, unique path despite all odds. “You are so right,” he said with a trifle note of apology in his tone, “I would like to see some of those rare gifts which you spoke about. Maybe my boyfriend would appreciate something that is not ordinary or commonplace.” 

“That’s the spirit sir, this way please!” 

***

John watched from the couch as Sherlock sat at the small lab space created for him in a tiny room next to the den. The two rooms were interconnected through a door and from where John usually sat, he could always see his young lover busy with an experiment or scribbling some kind of notes in his diary or tapping away on his laptop, bottom lip sucked in as he concentrated. The doctor looked at the clock on the wall, only ten minutes to go till midnight. Then Sherlock would be nineteen years old. His first birthday since he hooked up with John a few months ago, all thanks to John’s friend Greg Lestrade sending him over for a job at the ranch. 

“You are staring,” Sherlock called out, not looking up from the microscope as he fiddled with the knobs on it. 

“I happen to have a very gorgeous and young boyfriend,” John called out as he stretched his legs and arms and craned his neck a bit to observe Sherlock’s reaction, “Sometimes when he’s too busy with something other than me, like his books and his beekeeping set and chemistry experiments, it makes me a feel a bit jealous and neglected. Like right now I regret having bought that stupid microscope for you because you spend so much time with it. I also know it’s late, almost midnight, and we should be in bed together. Hopefully naked and with some plans of activities other than sleeping of course.”

“Success,” Sherlock jumped, “Yeah, you were saying?” 

“Oh forget what I said.” 

“No, tell me about it.” 

“Nothing important. I was whining about being ignored.” 

Sherlock quickly noted something down, closed his laptop and scampered over to where John was siting, plonking himself on his lap. He put his arms around John’s neck and smiled that bedazzling smile. “Says the man who is in surgery for six hours every day and can’t even take my calls? Come on, when I am off to Uni you will see less of me and weekends are what we’ll mostly have.” 

“Also travel time,” John said with a fond smile and a kiss on those sculpted cheekbones, “I will drop you there and pick you up every evening.” 

“Dropping is fine, it’s in the morning and around the same time you start at the hospital. But how can you pick me up? I shall be done sooner than you. What about emergencies you have to handle or the surgeries which sometimes stretch into the evening hours?” 

“Then I guess you’ll love the birthday gift I chose for you.” 

Sherlock’s eyes widened slightly and just at that moment the antique grandfather clock at the foyer chimed to midnight. His birthday had begun! John whispered ‘Happy Birthday Love’ to his Sherlock and hugged him tight while the teenager hugged him back, his lips brushing the back of John’s neck for a moment. The doctor’s dick jumped in his pants, making John wonder for a moment as to how this youth could turn him on with a handful of the simplest, fleeting gestures. But a birthday shag had to wait for a bit, he wanted to show Sherlock the gift he had purchased for him first. 

“I hope you haven’t gone overboard with the gift,” Sherlock looked apprehensive. 

“No, it’s just made for you, I am sure you’ll love it.” 

“I will for sure but is it expensive?” 

“Sherlock!” 

“Okay sorry, where is it, I am curious now!” 

John took Sherlock’s hand and walked him out of the door. They circled the porch for a moment, kissing each other deeply under the moonlight, before John led him to a spot behind the three-car garage. Inside the garage stood John’s $85000 Toyota Land Cruiser, his Mercedes S Class and his Nissan Titan full size pickup truck with an upgraded luxury interior, cars which Sherlock had been given a free hand to drive whenever he wished to.

“No more driving my cars,” John said as he took off the covers from a fourth car with a flourish, revealing the electric blue Chevy Cruze.

“You….you bought me a car!” 

John smiled broadly at his lover, “Yes I did. Do you like it? I know the colour is definitely going to agree with you. I had some safety features installed as well. Like the…..” He went on and on about the airbags and abs system, the cross traffic signal and blind spot detection, till he realized Sherlock was not responding at all. He simply stood and harked at the new vehicle.

He didn’t look thrilled. 

A strange disappointment made John’s stomach sink and his face fell. “If you want me to buy you something else just tell me, I would. Anything you say. We can return this car and take a different one, change the colour or the model. Buy something completely different.” 

“John no, this is awesome, wonderful in fact,” his curly haired lover exclaimed, “But it’s expensive, it’s just too much, you have been spending like crazy on me in the past seven months and it feels a big strange because I can’t even do half of those things for you. I am sorry but it makes me feel…..inadequate, dependent, I don’t really like that very much. Nowadays you don’t even let me work here, so it’s like you’ve become my……” 

“Sugar daddy?” John asked in a hurt voice. 

When Sherlock nodded, John pulled him closer and placed his fingers under the younger man’s chin, making him look into his eyes. “Listen Sherl, I know you are reaching that age when you’d want to buy things with your own money, when you don’t want to be dependent on anyone. Well, from the outside it seems you are dependent on me but the truth is I am far more dependent on you than you will ever be.” His voice faltered and he cleared his throat, hoping he didn’t break down, “If I am not around you will find your way through life. Maybe it will take you a year more to get back to Uni but you will be there next year. As for me, if you leave me, I would lose it. I am going to seriously lose it.” 

Sherlock blinked. 

“Yeah that’s true. When two people are in a relationship it’s not just about who earns the money but who holds them together. You hold us together baby, you are contributing more than your fair share in this relationship, to me, to us.” 

“You’re just saying this to make me feel better.” 

“No, I won’t lie to you. It doesn’t work. And I am a bad liar.” 

“That you are.” 

“Listen,” John said softly, “I picked up smaller knick-knacks for you too. I couldn’t resist buying this car as well but if you don’t wanna have it now, it will wait here till you are ready to drive it. Till then, make do with the other gifts I got. Huh?” 

Sherlock nodded. 

***

John watched with delight as Sherlock enthusiastically held the backpack in his arms and the fitness band that John had bought for him. The backpack was shaped like a skull and the fitness band was a unique one that looked like a stick-on tattoo on his arm with near invisible straps on it. 

“They are lovely,” Sherlock said, his blue eyes growing sombre, “Thank you.” 

John knew the younger man was not entirely cheerful and back to himself yet. In fact even he wasn’t back to his normal spirits, since he hadn’t anticipated his boyfriend’s reaction to that car at all. The rejection had hurt him but today was not about him. It was about Sherlock and he didn’t intend to ruin the big day by forcing the nineteen-year-old to like the car or even accept it. 

“I think we can cheer you up a little?” He said with a hint of wickedness in his eyes and voice, “Come on baby, let’s see what we can do!” 

***

Sherlock lay writhing and groaning in bed, his hands tied to the bedposts with soft leather bands and his legs spread wide apart. John kept eating him out till the younger man was almost drooling from the sensations and hoarse from crying out too much. Somewhere at the back of his mind John registered the possibility of Eve hearing them but he didn’t care, not when his man was making such delectable noises and responding to his ministrations in the most delightful ways possible. He stuck his tongue in again and Sherlock’s hole began to clench around him, the tell-tale sign that he was about to cum soon. 

He untied Sherlock's hands first, then grabbed the throbbing cock resting flat against Sherlock’s abs and squeezed it hard. 

Sherlock’s hips began to move rapidly, repeatedly, sensuously, uncontrollably and suddenly he was cumming. Creamy spurts landing everywhere, on his abs, his sternum, his long throat, some on his arms and a bit on the sheets as a series of voluptuous throbs ran through his slender long frame. Guttural groans and mewls of relief escaped him as he came, his hands moving feverishly in John’s sandy blond brown locks as he literally tried to push the older man’s face inside his ass, his legs and toes curling upwards and downwards. 

When it finally stopped and John looked up, Sherlock was panting like a goldfish out of water. A smirk came over the doctor’s face. The best was yet to come. 

He slicked up a small vibrator with lube and pushed it inside, turning it to mid-level settings. It started working against Sherlock’s prostate and the youngster’s dick, lying half hard in a pool of cum, jerked upwards again. 

“Oh God Jawwn!” 

“Can I fuck you now?” 

“Yeaaaah!” 

“Next to the toy?” 

“Ohhh….yes….it….please….ohhh!” 

John utilized his lover’s temporary boneless and relaxed state and his returning arousal to get inside him quickly. He knew Sherlock would feel very full but he also knew he’d enjoy it very much. Holding the base of his erection he slowly pushed in. 

God, it felt so good to be in that tight hot channel and be subjected to those delicious vibrations at the same time. John had to stay still completely for some time in a bid to fob off the instantaneous need to climax. 

After a full minute Sherlock started making impatient sounds. Finally, he ordered a gruff ‘Mooooove’ and John began to do just that. 

They went at it for a long time, John moving deeper and faster inside his lover and Sherlock wrapping his long legs around John and digging his heels into the older man’s butt to encourage him. Only when Sherlock was totally exhausted and begging to find release did John relent to his silent pleas. He upped the ante and let Sherlock stroke himself to completion, enjoying the look of blissed out ecstasy in those young eyes. As Sherlock came, pupils dilating and a string of moans and curses leaving him, John let go too and allowed himself to fall over the edge into the soft, soothing depths of delayed gratification.


	2. A gift from Mycroft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's family is reaching out to him suddenly and that makes John wonder what's the agenda

“What do you mean he refused to take the gift?” 

“Harry it means he didn’t want me to spend so much money on him.” 

“Is Sherlock out of his mind now?” John could hear the tinge of annoyance and disbelief in his sister’s voice, “The kid knows how much you love him and he sees it every single day, proof as clear as daylight, so what’s so shocking about that love translating into a nice and utilitarian gift? He will need to drive down the one hour it takes to get to Austin and the Uni there. In six months he has to start his academic year doesn’t he? Sorry Johnny but I always thought he was a very bright button but this time around I am a bit confused. Isn’t he being a little daft?” 

“Lighten up Harry, I think you’re being a little harsh on him.” 

“I love him, you know that. I think he’s THE ONE for you. But he’s being a bit childish don’t you think? I mean, he is too young to earn. Someday when he does, he will perhaps earn more than you do. He can buy you lots of gifts then but for now…..this is the arrangement. Now Lucy and I are worried if he’d think that the watch we bought for him, a Tag Heuer, will also be tossed back to us since it’s too expensive.” 

“Nah, don’t worry. He has an omega from me for Christmas. He will be fine.” 

“I think I will have a chat with him.” 

“No, you cannot and you won’t. It’s his birthday and I won’t have anybody talk to him in a manner that upsets him.” 

She made a disgruntled noise and asked, “So dinner still stands right? Who else is going to be there?” 

“Small party starting five thirty sharp,” John replied pleasantly, “Of course dinner stands! The guest list comprises of the usual suspects, Lucy, you, Greg Lestrade, Mr and Mrs Wray, Andreas and my boss and mentor from the hospital, Edwin Groff. That’s about it. Yeah, Greg hasn’t been around in a while but he agreed to come over for Sherl’s birthday so we shall have a full house of sorts.”

“Is Sherlock up?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Hmm, all right then, we won’t talk tonight but I am going to speak to the kid soon. He is my brother in law, I have every right.” 

John knew he wouldn’t want that. Women got too familiar too soon with things sometimes while most men preferred baby steps, one at a time. But he shelved that argument for later. 

***

Sherlock was inundated with gifts by everyone and he seemed to accept them all with grace, though he didn’t seem very comfortable with the gestures. He didn’t even open the gifts immediately in spite of several requests from the guests, choosing to leave them indoors while the party continued outside, next to the swimming pool. Eva had set up a barbeque there and grilled the fillet mignon steaks to perfection as John broke out a few beers and poured wine for the ladies. 

“Thanks buddy,” John said to Greg as he, the cop and Harry sat at one of the tables, “I owe you my happiness, really.” 

Greg looked at Sherlock who was showing some magic tricks to the Wray family, Lucy and Andreas. “I can see the happiness mate, I can feel it too,” he gestured all around, “The place seems more like a home and less like a structure with expensive items decorating it. You have both been very good for each other and it’s really nice to see that you’ve gone back into surgery. It’s okay being a rancher but that was your dad. You are a doctor, a neurosurgeon, it was criminal to lose a talent like you to depression.” He stole a glance at Sherlock again and added, “Just as it was a shame to see that boy behind bars. He was doing a service to mankind, not breaking the law. But laws are strange sometimes.” 

“Greg,” Harry butted in, “Since you have known Sherlock for a while now, can I ask you something?” 

“Go on.” 

“He seems hesitant to take gifts. Big gestures put him off. Even John got a shock last night when he bought Sherlock a car. I mean it’s okay isn’t it, he will go to Uni soon and he will need his own car to drive down everyday.” 

“Was it a new car?” 

“Yes, why?” 

“Expensive one? Or one of those smaller, basic models?” 

“Why is that important Greg?” 

Greg Lestrade gave her a long stare. “Harry, John, this boy might have been a bit compromised when he came to see employment with John but he’s not some poor orphan who’s after materialistic things. The best thing he has is his dignity, his independence, his self-respect. By gifting him pricey things, by overwhelming him with gestures that are way over the top, you’re making him clam up. He feels as if he’s accepting charity. While that might not be the intent while you’re doing something for him, he’s not going to take it as anything but charity until he is able to give something in return.” 

“But,” Harry was not giving up, “He does give us gifts too. He gifted Lucy and me lovely pairs of matching earrings for our anniversary….” 

“With what?” Greg asked, “The money John gives him?” 

John raised his hand to stop the discussion, things becoming clear as crystal to him. “I got it Greg, I got it now. In his place I would probably feel the same way. I know him well by now and I agree that he is a very self-reliant young man with tremendous fighting spirit. The worst you can do to him is make him feel he is burdened by a debt he cannot repay, not at least in the next few years. But what can I do my friend? Harry and I try to make him as comfortable, keep him as pampered as possible. We don’t want him to miss out on anything he was used to when he lived with his own family. We will tone down the gifts but I am not going to tone down on his education costs.” 

“Why tone down the gifts,” Harry was exasperated, “He’s just a kid. I will gift him whatever I want to.” 

“I thought gifting was more about what the receiver appreciates and not what we wish to give,” Greg said pointedly. 

Harry backed off at that point, realizing where she was going wrong. After a few pensive moments of introspection, she went to join the others who were praising Sherlock for his magic tricks. 

John looked at his friend, “Greg?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“I want to know about his family.” 

“They live in Houston. Rich guys and a family of geniuses. Father is a scientist and heads an entire research wing for the government. Mother works as a museum director and restores old paintings and sculptures, they say she has magic in her hands. His elder brother, much older than him, is a Senator and a lawyer. The last one, his brother, is the one to watch out for. A total shark, he has power beyond our comprehension. But he refused to help his own brother when the incident happened and the parents didn’t even attend the trial.” 

“What a creepy, weird family.” 

“Are you worried they will try and stake their claim? They won’t John. Too selfish they are!”

“I hope not.” 

“Even if they do, Sherlock won’t go back. As I told you, his dignity and self-respect, if anybody hurts them he never forgives.” 

John nodded, “I am glad you told us so. You got him the perfect gift. The magic trick set really enchanted him and look how quickly he learned how to use it. It’s just been two hour and he’s already doing those tricks like a pro.” 

“Remember John,” Greg patted him on the shoulder, “He likes attention, a little validation, a bit of companionship when he realizes from time to time that the world doesn’t really care about geniuses so much. Give him your time, your ears then and you will never lose him.” 

***

Once the party was over and the guests had all left, John decided to help Eva wind up and clean up. As they went about the errands and cleaning, Sherlock sat on the porch and kept playing with the magic kit Greg had gifted him, reading the instructions, trying new gimmicks, giggling to himself. He looked so happy that John didn’t feel like calling out to him to help them. It was his birthday after all and he deserved a little time off from regular chores. Not that Sherlock did a lot of work at the ranch or the farmhouse, only little bits and pieces here and there which any family member would do. But he no longer had to earn his keep or to get monthly wages. 

John was about to call out to him eventually, saying it was time for bed, when Eva suddenly handed him two packages. “They arrived earlier, around later afternoon. Gifts for Sherlock. I didn’t hand them over earlier as I was busy setting up the barbeque.” 

“That’s all right, he hasn’t even opened the other gifts yet,” John said as he looked at the two packages. One was from Abe and his wife Madison, who were on a short vacation starting that very day and hence had left the package for Sherlock just before leaving the ranch that afternoon. It was the other one that intrigued John and tickled his spine with a weird shiver of anxiety. The package, at least from the outside, suggested there were gift vouchers inside. The package itself said a lot about the sender because it was clearly sent by a man who enjoyed wealth and power in equal measures. The wrapper was super pricey and the plastic cover on top was stamped with one of the top legal firms in Houston. 

John knew the sender before he spotted his name. 

Mycroft Holmes. 

Sherlock’s elder brother. 

A nervous ball of fear bubbled up in John’s stomach. Why was his family sending him gifts when they hadn’t been in touch for nearly three years? And how on earth did they find out where Sherlock was right now? Unless of course, Sherlock told them and never informed John that he was still talking to his family now and then. //Stop fidgeting John, he is an adult, he can’t be dragged back home by his folks//

“But that’s the fear,” John murmured to himself, “What if he actually wants to go?” 

“John?” 

“Hey Sherlock hey!” 

“Who are you talking to?” 

John thought for a moment, hesitated the next and then thrust the packages into Sherlock’s hands and walked off. He pretended to the best of his abilities that he had seen no details and casually commented ‘To nobody hon’ as he walked past, leaving the room swiftly and walking into the next room. But his curiosity got the better of him and he peered in a little later. He saw Sherlock keep the gift sent by Abe and Madison and then toss the one from Mycroft into the fire. The moment the teenager had gone upstairs John shot out of the next room and tried to retrieve the package, curious to see what it was and why his estranged family was contacting him. 

He saw the charred half remains of the package. It had a luxury vacation voucher for Sherlock and six more people of his choice to a super expensive resort in St Tropez. There was also a photograph, a key and the ownership papers for a Porsche Cayenne. 

About a hundred and fifty thousand dollars’ worth of gifts discarded without a second thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support and encouragement with this series. I hope you are enjoying reading the updates as much as I love writing them!


	3. Big Brother Mycroft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a visitor who has some surprising revelations about his young partner

The next morning John woke up alone. 

This was rare, quite rare in fact, especially when he was aware how late Sherlock had come to bed the night before. Sherlock was a notoriously late riser even if he slept at a decent hour. But from the state of the sheets next to him, rumpled from someone sleeping there but cold enough to suggest they had been up at least an hour ago, he knew his boyfriend had not slept well. 

Half an hour later John was shaved, showered and dressed for the day and hopping downstairs for a quick breakfast. He had to get to work by ten and it was already 8:45 with an hour’s drive ahead of him. When he saw no signs of Sherlock at the breakfast table in the conservatory, he asked Eva about him. “No idea Dr Watson,” she had started calling him a doc by now, “I saw him outside while I was hanging out the clothes to dry but he’s not come in for a bite since. I can’t blame him for being outdoors though. The sunlight is nice actually, feels good to get a little colour on the skin during the January month.” 

John was sure he wasn’t outside getting some sun. Without touching his breakfast he quickly made his way towards the kitchen door that exited into a nice herb and kitchen garden, before stepping out into the nicely manicured lawns beyond them. 

He spotted the gardener, the old man from the nearby town who came by twice a week to help with the weeds and mowing and some amount of fertilizer spraying and digging of the soil here and there. The usual trimming of hedges and watering the plants and the lawns were done either by Eva or by Sherlock. 

“Seen my boy?” John asked. 

“The kid’s over there by the garage,” he responded, “Didn’t seem to be in a chatty mood.” 

//Not good//

He wondered if that Mycroft Holmes fellow had a letter inside that package which Sherlock hadn’t destroyed in the fire. If yes, what did that letter say? So many possibilities but John was scared to second guess them. 

He found Sherlock sitting in the Chevy Cruze and checking out all the features. John approached him carefully, not intending to either startle him with his sudden appearance or get spotted standing there quietly and observing Sherlock from a distance. 

He cleared his throat heavily. 

Sherlock grinned a bit too wide, “Jawn!” 

“So you are going to drive it?” 

“Yeah. It’s not so bad. In fact, you were right, I love the colour.” 

“I could change it you know, maybe a used car that’s smaller and not so pretentious.” 

Sherlock threw John a strange look and shook his head, “No I will keep it.” With that he got out of the car and walked back to the house without a backward glance. Clearly something was off about him and the dagger turned in John’s heart. He thought about what Greg had said the evening before, about gifts being ones which made the receiver happy and not the one who was buying or giving them. Perhaps Sherlock missed home, his family, his familiar surroundings and the life he had at a large city like Houston. Maybe he missed the money and flamboyance too. Blood, after all, was always going to be thicker than water no matter how hard one tried to believe romantic relationships were the closest, most intimate ones. 

John swapped breakfast for just a cup of tea and left the house after saying bye to Sherlock. Unlike the other days the youth didn’t give him a hug or bound out of the house to see him off till the car. He stayed on the couch and mouthed ‘see you’. 

Those were telling changes in his normal behaviour. 

***

Several hours passed and Sherlock didn’t call or text. John tried to console himself by thinking that his boyfriend was not very communicative and didn’t believe in half a dozen ‘I love you’s a day’. 

But still, something seemed off and he texted Sherlock instead. ‘How are you doing baby’ were his words. Almost half an hour later a response came ‘M’fine’. Very curt and dry!

John had lately started to do solo surgeries, which meant he was slowly being given the mantle of an independent surgeon by his mentor Dr Groff. Of course, at this point these were not any of the major brain or spinal surgeries (where he was always an assistant) but minor incisions with minimal risks. Like an appendectomy or the removal of a uterine cist or, as it was the case that afternoon, the removal of a bullet from a man’s thigh. While he was very happy with the progression of his career as a surgeon, it was also draining and tiring on him and he wanted nothing more than a coffee and a twenty-minute break to get back his bearings properly. 

His plans were dashed. He had just come out of surgery and was washing his hands when a nurse approached him. “You have a visitor doctor, someone who insists on seeing you without an appointment.”

“I don’t see anyone without appointment. Ask them to see the resident doctor if they need immediate attention and in case it’s an emergency or trauma they can go to the trauma wing where there are doctors 24/7…..” 

“I don’t think he is a patient doctor.” 

“Then who is it?” 

“He has given this business card,” she handed him a card that was fine and showy, almost a power roar, “He’s waiting just outside your chambers. He says his name is Mycroft Holmes and he sounded damned sure you would see him.” 

***

The man who entered his chambers gave off vibrations of power and control like the body of a washing machine thrummed with the rotating movements inside. He probably had hundreds of cogs and thousands of thoughts turning in his head at the same time and his sinister energy transferred to the doctor the moment they shook hands. John automatically went on the backfoot. Mycroft Holmes was taller than even his six-footer brother, with a lean build that wasn’t so much willowy as it was angular and bony, with a receding hairline and a sour, almost disdainful face. Even as he smiled in greeting he came across as a cold fish, slimy and unpredictable. John could tell, even before one word was exchanged, this fellow wanted something and wouldn’t rest until John had given him that. “I have been given to believe that Sherlock lives with you,” he said as he took a seat. 

“I have been given to believe you are Sherlock’s elder brother,” John shot back. 

Eyebrows shot up and Mycroft seemingly admired his springy attitude for a moment. Then the mask descended on his face again and he leaned back in his chair, staring arrow straight at John. “It was his birthday yesterday, he turned nineteen. I had sent some gifts for him at your address. A holiday at St Tropez with a group of his friends, airfare included, and a Porsche that he always wanted to drive. It also had my little note inside, calling him over to the hotel I am staying in. But since he hasn’t called me or texted me, or even called the hotel, am I correct in thinking he hasn’t been handed over his gift or he chose to burn it without even looking into it.” 

“A rather reckless set of assumptions,” John said, “Maybe he doesn’t care about your gifts and doesn’t want to contact you.” 

“Ah, I see he has fed you his stories.” 

“Stories?” 

“I have had you investigated. Senator and prosecutor Mycroft Holmes doesn’t do things half-baked of course. You come from a wealthy family, not half as much as ours but you do come from money, and you seem to have a rather nice ranch south of Austin where my little brother stays with you, as your live-in.” He noticed how John flinched and smiled with satisfaction, “Good you learned your lesson Dr Watson and took him in once he was of age.” 

John felt his blood shoot up north and pulsate at his temples. The cheek of this man!

But he would be damned if he lost his temper and walked into the trap this fellow was setting him up for. “If you dig deep enough, there are skeletons in every closet Senator Holmes so we better not start speculating and slandering,” John spoke in an unwavering voice that sounded much stronger than he felt, “So, rather than tell me about the past I already know about and slag off your own sibling by saying he’s feeding me stories, I’d appreciate if you educate me on the purpose of your visit. I don’t suppose you left your lofty quarters and offices in Houston to come down and see a beginner neurosurgeon at Austin.” 

“Maybe I came down for my brother.” 

John gave a loud laugh at that and watched with supreme satisfaction when that unfazed look on Mycroft’s visage melted slightly before the man hurriedly stitched it back up again. But by then John had noticed and his voice was tinged with more confidence than his last statement. “Really? You came down to see Sherlock? The boy who hasn’t seen his family in three years and two months, one year of which he spent in juvenile prison and one and half years in parole under the care of a precinct captain, suddenly getting a visit from his big brother on his nineteenth birthday! That sounds highly unlikely! So what am I missing out on here counsellor?” 

Mycroft looked cool as a cucumber despite that acid attack of words. “How long have you known Sherlock?” He asked calmly. 

“Seven months, two weeks, four days.” 

“Wow! Impressive. We have known him for close to sixteen years in the same capacity, maybe more, so what you’re missing out on is on your face!” 

There comes the slap, John thought, not budging or backing down from his stance. “You could be with someone for decades and not know them.” 

“Oh we knew him all right,” Mycroft waved his arm dismissively, “He was always trying to fix broken people. From a panhandler on the street to a crack addict in an alley to some former criminal and her grandkids who had nothing to eat because she had sold everything to pay her lawyer’s bills, the list went on and on. And he did all of this on dad’s money, mum’s money, my money. When we told him to grow up, man up, earn the money he wishes to give away, he goes out in a huff at night, spends the last of his coins on a prostitute and when he couldn’t pay the real price of the man’s services, killed three of the fellows who worked at the brothel.” 

John’s right hand, his surgeon’s hand, shook. It hadn’t shaken at the goriest sights or the tensest moments but right now he had to put it inside his pocket to prevent Mycroft from seeing how deeply affected he was. 

“And….and you’re telling me all this because?” 

“Because we want him to come back home.” 

No, no, no, no, no, he wasn’t going to lose Sherlock! 

“Why do you want him back home when it seems all you have for him are complaints, cribs and curt judgment?” 

Mycroft breathed out impatiently, looking at John as if he was addressing a pot plant. “We thought he would come back on his own but he didn’t. You can’t blame mum and dad for being a little angry, considering what he did and how he got himself incarcerated. They always told him to look after himself first, to be responsible for himself before he tried to give others a hand-up. What was wrong with that? Any parent would say so.” 

John held on to the edge of the desk, his confidence dissolving, his courage depleting fast. Whatever Sherlock was, no matter what he had done and even if he had fabricated the truth a bit to John, he loved the boy and didn’t want to lose him. They belonged together for a lifetime and there was no way he would let Sherlock go without putting up a fight for him. But as he started to understand the other side of the story, he had only two logical arguments remaining. First, Sherlock was an adult and his decision would have to be final. But then what if Sherlock chose his family over John? Second, how was it going to help Sherlock if he stayed with his family at Houston and not with John at his ranch? 

Mycroft peered into his face as if he was trying to read John’s thoughts. And he did!

“He needs proper therapy and counselling and Austin doesn’t have a shrink as good as Dr Mortimer, our family friend. He will work on Sherlock the moment he’s back to Houston with me. My brother needs to be around people who will look out for him constantly and you can’t do that, you have your work after all. He needs to move in a circle where there are similar kids who have been through juvenile crime and rehab…..” 

“Wait…..rehab?” 

“Good Lord, he didn’t tell you. He was a cocaine addict.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neither Sherlock is an ass nor are his family members assholes. They just don't go too well......together!
> 
> Aside note - Updates might be a little slow from week starting October 9th owing to my new job.


	4. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John hears Sherlock's side of the story and comes up with a plan

The moment John entered the ranch and saw the farmhouse in the distance, he felt a strong ache shudder up his chest. The last thing he wanted to do was rake up Sherlock’s past and spoil their future but there were some serious matters buried in the statements Mycroft had made, and those had to be discussed openly and clearly. 

He found Sherlock sitting on the steps to the porch and the moment he saw John’s car he got up and raced alongside it till he was in the garage too. 

Sherlock wrapped him up in a big tight hug as John stepped out of his car and the doctor felt confused for a moment. His lover’s scent in his nostrils, the feel of that elegant and malleable body in his arms, the curly locks fluttering in the breeze, he just wanted to dump all his worries and take the youth to bed. But his thoughts came to a shuddering halt when he remembered Mycroft’s words to him, shortly before the man had left his chambers. “Sex is essential and pillow talk is powerful doc. I don’t need to remind you that the last thing you should let him do is tell you the truth about his past when you are both in bed after a mutually explosive orgasm.”

He pulled back. 

Sherlock pulled back too. 

“Sherlock….”

“You met my brother.” 

Damn, John thought, this clever chap and his deductions! Of course he would have realized. “I…um….yes. He came to see me at the hospital this afternoon.” 

“And you met him?” 

“Yes, because of you.” 

“Because of me? How? Did I ever ask you to meet him? Didn’t I tell you many times over that I wanted nothing to do with my family. They abandoned me.” 

“Yes, you told me your family never contacted you in years but that doesn’t mean I can’t speak to them, especially when they send you expensive gifts on your birthday and your brother, a powerful and busy man, comes down all the way to Austin to see you.” 

“If he was here to see me then why didn’t he ask for me, why you?” 

“Because you didn’t respond to his note.” 

Sherlock’s green eyes flashed fire and he kicked at the wall in frustration, throwing his long arms up in the air. “Oh yeah is that so? If you knew they had sent me a gift, if you knew they were trying to contact me then why didn’t you speak to me first? Why agree to meet Mycroft? I can smell his cologne on you. I can see that twitchy quality in your behaviour which people usually have when Mycroft has his way with them. He has turned your head against me has he not? How many lies did he feed you? Do you regret it already, that you met me? Tell me John, TELL ME!” 

John wanted to pull him into his arms and kiss him, tell him not to worry, but it was true that Mycroft’s words were circling round and round in his head and the next words just tumbled out. “Then tell me the truths. The whole truths. So help me God, I want to know the truth from you. From YOU Sherlock.” 

Sherlock looked stung. He opened his mouth as if to say something but the next moment closed it. His face crumpled and he turned on his heel and started to run away. John had not anticipated this reaction but he realized Sherlock was young, way too young to handle this like a mature adult. He had to be mature for both of them. He had to comfort the youth first before they could sit down and talk. Already quite guilty for having spoken to Mycroft and half believed his words, he raced after Sherlock and caught up with him just as he was about to enter the farmhouse. “Stop Sherl stop, I am sorry,” he said sincerely, “I shouldn’t have talked to Mycroft alone. But can we talk about this, please, can you do this for me, please?” 

“What’s the point?” Sherlock cried out in anguish, “You won’t believe me.” 

“Try me. Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Because nobody ever does.” 

“I am not everybody, or nobody, or one of them. I am your John. YOUR John, do you understand me Sherl?” 

Something shifted in those pained eyes and the young man nodded. 

“Come on,” John said, “Let’s go to the bedroom, sit down and talk. But first, let’s drink some water. Your lips are dry and my throat feels like cotton wool’s been stuffed down it.” 

***

“I am the black sheep of my family.” 

John caressed Sherlock’s curls as the latter curled up in his arms. John sat propped against the headboard of the bed, holding him in a tender embrace. He had shed off his hospital clothes and was down to his briefs. Sherlock was still fully dressed except for his boots. 

“It was a case of damned if you do and damned if you don’t,” Sherlock cried out, his eyes dry but the hollow and haunted look in them pronounced and evident, “I was packed off to boarding school where I was picked on for being far more intelligent than the rest. But every single time I came to my parents for help, they told me to be more like Mycroft. He was always the perfect son, someone who could do no wrong. They considered me slower, till I completed my middle school education way ahead of boys my age. Then they wanted me to go to this posh high school which I refused, because I wanted to do something different. I wanted to be a scientist like my father, I wanted to do more deductive reasoning, I wanted to be a shrink, I had so many dreams in my eyes. But they kept telling me only of those things I was not good at. I was socially awkward and that was a problem. I played the violin too much and that was a problem. I wanted to be a detective and that was a problem.” 

“Not the best parents I have heard of and I see why you hate Mycroft,” John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s curls, “Comparing him constantly with you ruined your relationship with him. Your parents are the ones I blame. But Sherl, at what point did you do drugs?” 

Sherlock flinched and John was worried he had touched a raw nerve. But it seemed that his lover was ready to bare his heart for once. “I-I-I am not too proud of that but I had to turn to someone, something. My granny was my biggest supporter but she wasn’t around all the time. Then she fell ill and I lost my only friend. I tried cocaine and heroin. Then they sent me to rehab. I ran away but stayed clean, they didn’t appreciate that. But I am clean, I-I didn’t do drugs later, nor was I under influence when I killed those men.” He buried his face in John’s chest, as if trying to burrow under the older man’s skin, seeking refuge from the world that had turned its face away from him and later turned completely against him. 

“Those men? Why did you kill them?” 

“Because they would have hurt that family.” 

“No. That’s not the truth. Sherlock, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth.” 

Again he flinched. Then he said in a small voice, “I was constantly teased for being a virgin. So my cousins sent me a whore. When I spent time with her I realized I’d have preferred a male version of her instead. So I asked her to go back and her pimp thought she was slacking at work. His three goons tried to rough her up and I intervened. Tempers flew, she killed one of them and I killed the other two….but I took the blame on.” 

“Jesus Sherlock.” 

“That old woman and her grandkids, that’s true too. I did help them. The same three goons were sent to her to extort money she couldn’t pay…..I intervened there again and paid some, so they knew I was loaded. One thing led to another and when we met again….” 

“I get it,” John soothed the distressed young man, “They wanted to hurt you bad because you were getting in their way too often.” 

“You can imagine,” Sherlock looked up at him, “A family like mine, when they hear their son was at a whorehouse and had killed three goons in the alley behind it, they had to cover it all up. So they stated at the courthouse I was under influence, an addict, the whore was to be blamed, that I was mentally unstable and there should be a plea for mild insanity. I refuted all claims because they were simply ‘not truths’. What Mycroft told you were all facts, but he jumbled them up to make me sound like some unhinged fiendish junkie, which I am not John. I am not.” 

“I know you aren’t,” John assured him, anger flaring up inside him when he remembered all that Mycroft had said, “But let’s talk some more about this. Why do you think your family wants you back now?” 

For the first-time Sherlock looked totally flummoxed and shrugged, then shook his head indicating he had no idea why they’d want him back. John thought over it too, staying in absolute silence for several minutes while Sherlock squirmed and wriggled in his arms and made needy noises. He knew the young man needed some assurance, some love, which he would definitely give him but not before he had figured a way out of this mess. For the first time in all these months, Sherlock and he had almost had a fallout. There was no way he was going to allow that dratted family or that upstart brother of his to cause any more fissions in his life with Sherlock. 

Then a brilliant idea struck him. 

“Sherl,” he took Sherlock’s face in his hands and kissed him on the tip of his nose, “You said you wanted to do deductive reasoning. You said you wanna be a detective. Well, here is your case. Just find out what your brother truly wants and how much does your mum and dad have to do with this? You have two days. Possible?” 

“Anything that’s not improbable, is possible,” came the smart response and John knew the storm between them had blown over. 

***

It took Sherlock only one day to figure out most of the truth. When John returned from work the next evening he found Sherlock naked and waiting for him in bed, saying accomplishment and success made him horny. 

John didn’t mind that at all. He was a highly-sexed man with lots of stamina and seeing his usually staid and shy lover so eager and horny for once drove him near crazy with arousal. 

Soon he was lying flat on his back with Sherlock riding him like a wild colt that had just been broken in and was about to transform into a stallion soon. Tall, long flowing limbs, pale smooth skin, a hint of facial hair, curls bouncing as he moved up and down, his face a perfect picture of erotic debauchery, John had never seen something as beautiful as a slutty Sherlock riding him as if his life depended on it. His lover’s cock bounced up and down, hard as a battering ram and begging for a touch. John kept playing with his nipples instead, delaying the gratification for both of them. 

Finally the command came, “Touch me there.” 

“Babe, you’ll cum instantly.” 

“Don’t care, touch me!” 

Sherlock’s eyes were closed, his face contorted with pleasure, a thin film of sweat shining all over his naked body. He moved up and down, back and forth, trying to get John’s cock to nudge his prostate over and over again and with every nudge his mouth opened just a little wider, showing a hint of pearly whites and delightful pink tongue. 

John thrust up as much as possible with Sherlock’s entire weight on him. The reaction in Sherlock was instantaneous as he groaned out aloud and started to match his movements to John’s, slamming his ass down every time John bucked up, so he could get his lover to slam against his pleasure gland with every thrust inside him. His eyes soon rolled to the back of his head and his hands moved erratically on John’s chest, indicating how close he was. John drank in that sight, lips curling into a smile as he watched his young lover melt away into a puddle of pleas, moans and begged half sentences that trailed away into howls. He finally heeded his request and let one of his hands trail down from a pink hard nipple to the bobbing erection between his spread thighs. 

He started pleasuring Sherlock with deft strokes on his cock while using his other hand to caress and lightly pinch the other nipple. It was a combination that always brought about the most explosive orgasms in the curly haired beauty and this time was no exception. 

When several blobs of semen landed on his chest and stomach and Sherlock’s racket filled the room, John let go and allowed himself to dissolve in the same manner as his boyfriend. It was surely one of their most intense orgasms so far!

A severely panting Sherlock landed on top of him, trembling like a leaf in the aftermath. Though it was tropical hot for them like this, skin to skin, sweat sticking to them like glue, John kept his arms around the other man for as long as it took to make him realize on thing. 

He was not alone in this!

It worked. 

Sherlock landed on the mattress next to John after a good ten minutes of silent cuddling and assurance from the older man. Then, as he lay on his back with one of John’s hands softly caressing his bare thigh, he whispered, “My granny is dead.” 

“Oh,” John raised his head to look at his face. He had understood one thing, if there was one family member Sherlock still had faith and love for, it was that old woman. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. She was in a coma for a year and died a month ago. They didn’t tell me. They didn’t even tell me about her death lest I show up at the funeral and embarrass them before the extended family and posh social contacts.” 

“God. Your family members are such jerks.” 

“Guess why Mycroft is here now? I found out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two Crows Joy - Who needs a third
> 
> Last chapter of this story will be up on Thursday!


	5. The Inheritance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock confront Mycroft and John takes over as peacemaker.

Mycroft Holmes was sipping tea at the elegant dining room of his presidential suite at the Hilton hotel, four fifths of the enormous breakfast he had ordered lying untouched before him, when John Watson and Sherlock Holmes were announced by his assistant Anthea. She threw Sherlock a derisive glance as they walked past her and John, noticing that, shot a mocking look back at her. Faithful dog, or bitch, whatever she was! Making her boss’s enemy her enemy. 

Though John doubted that Mycroft actually considered Sherlock an enemy. That family was embarrassed by their youngest born and somewhat reluctant to accept his quirks but they didn’t really mean any harm to him. They were merely trying to have their way. There was greed there, and a lack of sensitivity, but no real malice. 

“Dear elder brother of mine,” Sherlock said condescendingly as he took a seat at the other end of the eight-seater table, while John faithfully took a seat at his elbow, “I see you are still not in the habit of ordering as much as you can really eat. Why would you do that? You have someone else to do these menial jobs for you, like ordering food or a cab or giving your clothes for express laundry services, and they know the check is always picked up by some client. So why bother about the waste of money or natural resources? Anyways, I am going to help myself to some coffee since I do know you don’t drink it.” 

“Yet he ordered it,” John poured himself a cup too, “Funny how you do things because nobody would call you out for it.” 

Mycroft’s brows knotted into a frown, “I am afraid I am the wrong man you chose to hurl your thinly veiled insults at. It doesn’t bother me one bit as to what you think about me Dr Watson, or you Sherlock….” 

“Call me John,” John said, “I am like a brother in law after all.” 

Mycroft glared, “You intend to marry him? Aren’t you too old to marry him?” 

“Nope. I think we are just as evenly matched by age as your grandfather and grandmother were. Wasn’t she ten years younger than her husband?” 

Sherlock snickered. Mycroft put his teacup down and placed his elbows on the table, his battle pose. “John, I am warning you, you have to stop being a part of this. You have no idea about the family or the history here…..” 

“Oh actually I do,” John said with a lackadaisical shrug, as if he couldn’t care less, “But I would much rather prefer Sherlock to explain it, at least the gist of it.” 

“What the hell is going on?” Mycroft thundered, “Sherlock?” 

“Granny had changed her will, hadn’t she?” Sherlock asked point blank. 

Mycroft startled. 

“Before you ask, let me tell you I too have ways and means of digging things out.” 

Mycroft’s guard was up again and he did what John had half expected him to do, he decided not to let the two guests steal his thunder by rattling off his plans and the reasons behind his sudden reappearance in Sherlock’s life. If they were to get a confession, he would offer it rather than have someone extract it from him. Forever the shark lawyer and the sinister politician with one eye on the Mayor’s seat and another on becoming a Governor of Texas at a future date. “I see you did your homework baby brother, then it’s time for me to state the obvious. I am here because of nana’s will and because she had changed it before she slipped into a coma after that stroke.” 

“A fortune of thirty million dollars in property, cash, bonds, stock options, art, jewelry and other investments,” Sherlock went on, “Not to mention an insurance plan of a further two million dollars for which I am the nominee.” 

Mycroft snorted, “Enjoying a bit of schadenfreude Will?” 

“Like you always did whenever mum and dad scolded me for not listening to you. I can say I had a good teacher who taught me how to enjoy schadenfreude.” 

“Unless all of us sign on the dotted line, nobody can touch a penny of that fortune.” 

“Yeah, I know. So you need me now. Did mum and dad wonder if I was alive or did they just ask you to find me in a morgue in case I had disappeared completely?” 

Mycroft looked a bit upset now, “Sherlock, it’s not that bad.” 

“It really isn’t Sherlock, he is right for once, it’s not as bad as you think,” John interrupted and stopped Sherlock when the younger man had begun to object to that statement. It made Mycroft look at John as if he had been shown the Eiffel tower hanging upside down. There was a clear spark of curiosity in his eyes, a curiosity to know how John, of all people, would actually call out something good in the Holmes family while he was still Sherlock’s biggest supporter. 

“What….” 

“While you looked into Mycroft’s reasons to come here looking for you and those expensive gifts, I was talking to Greg and the superintendent of the prison where you had been incarcerated for a year. Your family has always been in touch with those people to find out how you’re doing. They might have also….pushed for your parole to be given a little earlier. But they didn’t tell you because you would have hated to receive their help.” 

“Just like you hated receiving help with your addiction,” Mycroft added, “Just like you refused our legal counsel’s advice before your case came up in court?”

“Now that’s not fair,” John balanced things out and grabbed Sherlock’s hand, so he knew he was still on his side, “Whether help is received with grace, happiness or suspicion totally depends on how it is given. If you throw help at a person, it seems like a tossed coin for them to pick up. If you give it like a collaboration and attach no strings to it, it is received with grace and delight. But it is offered with contempt and patronizing overtones then nobody wants it, because it makes them feel inadequate and slighted.” 

He paused and looked into Mycroft’s eyes, “No family member should be treated the way you treated him. If he thinks your parents hardly care whether he’s dead or alive then it’s their fault Mycroft. And perhaps you should stop enjoying your ‘the best son’ status and try and bridge that gap between your folks and your sibling. As far as I know, a real man does the right thing even if it takes them through mountains and shark infested waters, fake and pretentious ones choose the convenient paths.”

Mycroft looked like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment but his years of practice as a lawyer and then as an upcoming politician had conditioned him to have nerves of steel. He composed himself and looked at the two men in complete silence, giving them his silent consent to go on. John looked at Sherlock and nodded, suggesting they go as per plan. For once, he saw Sherlock behave more like a man he was becoming than the angsty child that he had been so far. “So Myc,” he began as he addressed his thirty four year old brother, “I am not leaving John or returning to the family. But that doesn’t mean we cannot work out something that works for all of us.” 

***

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” John asked as they sat at their dinner table that night. 

Sherlock was fiddling with his food as usual, making various shapes of it on his plate. 

“Yes, this is what I want to do,” he answered in a clear and upbeat voice, “The more I think through this and re-think this, the more I want to do exactly this. The insurance money, which she had taken at a great premium, was actually something she did for me. She knew I was falling out with the rest of them and didn’t want me deprived. So technically, that money is what she left exclusively for me. I will take that and no more. As for the rest, I’ll sign the documents Mycroft sends me with the family lawyer and let them have it all.” 

“You are losing almost ten million.” 

“No, I am gaining two. Enough for me to feel I have a cushion. I don’t want to be greedy.” 

Sherlock put his fork down next to the plate, his eyes on the pattern created on the plate with spaghetti and meatballs with sauce. “It would be nice to be able to buy gifts for you with my own money, to fund my own education, maybe buy property or a car…..” 

John extended his hand and squeezed Sherlock’s wrist, “A few days ago I would have erupted over this and said ‘my money is your money’. But I won’t do that now. It’s good to see you have inheritance money now to feel secure about your position in life. If you wish to be a consulting detective and not make money the conventional way, then this money will help you run the expenses while you try out your dream job. Of course, funding your own education is also a nice thing.” 

“It doesn’t change a thing between us though,” Sherlock looked up at his boyfriend, “It never would.” 

***

“You drive well,” John said as he sat in Sherlock’s Chevy while the younger man drove towards their destination, Big Bend National Park. It was going to be their first holiday together. It was late spring and the weather had gotten reasonably warmer and balmy and the highway drive was smooth and unimpeded, if slightly monotonous. But they were two men in love and used to sharing words as well as silence so it wasn’t half bad. Soon they’d stop at a diner for lunch and later they’d stop at a motel for the night, have a nice romp and watch telly with Sherlock lying on the bed with his head on John’s lap. Life was good!

“Where did you learn?” John asked, turning down the radio. 

“The butler taught me, in one of dad’s many cars,” Sherlock said as he drove on, overtaking a slower vehicle effortlessly, “Once I had a minor accident. Scraped lots of pain off the side, broke a tail light and had this visible dent on a door. Morris, the butler I mean, took the car to a repair shop and had everything patched up, aside from the paint of course. They didn’t have the same paint for the Maserati. In fact I doubt they had ever worked on a Maserati. So I bought this chequered flag sticker and stuck it over the area, pretended it was my gift to dad for a sporty car he favoured.” 

“He bought it?” 

Sherlock chuckled as he looked at John through the corner of his eye, “He is a Holmes. Of course it’s his duty to suspect even a block of cheese sitting on the dining table. Of course he found out. I was banned from using any of his cars afterwards but I had learned by then.”

John laughed, “Your old man is something huh? By the way, what do you think about the old man who owns the motel we stayed in last night. Has he noticed that we were a bit too enthusiastic last night and broken his bed?” 

“I left money for the repairs.” 

“You are always a good sport.” 

“No. I am someone who hates to be in debt.” 

“Speaking of debts baby boy, you aren’t going to pay for this car, or your keep. Or this holiday for that matter.” 

“I never said I would. I’d pay for my Uni fees though.” 

“That you have every right to….look, two crows. Two crows joy!” 

Sherlock gave John a puzzled glance, “Do you seriously believe in this shit?” 

“For someone who was a single crow for a long time and certainly anything other than joyful, I’d say hell yeah I do,” John answered with a heart laughter and put a hand on Sherlock’s knee, sliding it up a little and watching his face with glee as the young man began to squirm in anticipation, “Since the day you came into the life of a lonely rancher, as a juvenile delinquent, it’s never been the same. It’s taken a turn for the better but maybe the best is yet to come!”

“Even though the second crow brought in his fair share of nonsense and disturbances in your life?” 

“Even so.” 

“Though we aren’t the rancher and juvenile whatever anymore?” 

“We are now the surgeon and the student perhaps.” 

“Yeah,” Sherlock hesitated and then asked, “Jawn?” 

“Yes Sherl?” 

“What if it doesn’t stay peaceful, stable and normal? I got a confession to make, I haven’t seen much peace around the places I have been in. I think that I might be a trouble magnet in my own way.” 

“Then that makes the two of us.” 

“What if it’s always stormy?” 

John’s hand slid up and grabbed Sherlock’s crotch which had tented by then. The green eyes narrowed and a long breath was sucked in. John gently rubbed his knuckles there and whispered, “At least it will never be boring.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glimpse from next story 'A bit not good'
> 
> “Doctor Watson, something terrible has happened.” 
> 
> “What is it Eva? Is Sherlock all right?” 
> 
> “He is fine. He has gone out riding his bike for a bit and not returned yet. You see, a package arrived for him in the meantime. So I asked Haas, Abe’s nephew who is helping me with the wallpaper, to accept the package for now and he did. A few minutes later I heard some music sounds, like out of tune music sounds, then nothing. When I went back into the living room I saw……” 
> 
> “Calm down and tell me, what did you see?” 
> 
> “Haas has been lying dead there Doc…..” 
> 
> “What? Oh God, look, just call the sheriff and don’t touch the body or anything else in that room. Ask Sherlock to not touch anything either. I am coming back home.” 
> 
>  
> 
> (Up from Friday onwards)

**Author's Note:**

> We will soon see Sherlock's family, or at least, one of its members


End file.
